The Kincaid had Baron Jamison to thank, he supposed, for failing to do his duty for his daughters. He wasn’t about to mention his gratitude, though, and doubted Jamie’s father would have heard a word anyway. The man was actually crying now. Alec was too disgusted to speak to the man. He’d never seen a grown man humiliate himself in such a foul way. It turned his stomach.
“We’re all very close to our father,” Jamie whispered when the baron couldn’t answer the priest’s question as to who was giving the brides away. The baron’s face was hidden in his soggy linen cloth. “Papa’s going to miss us, milord. This is most difficult for him.”
She hadn’t looked up at Alec when she made her whispered excuse for her father’s shameful conduct, but the plea was there, in her husky voice. She was asking for his understanding, he knew, and he found her defense of her father worthy enough to make him keep his unfavorable opinion to himself.
She’d just given him another glimpse into her character, for her plea told him she was loyal to her family. He thought that was a noble quality under any circumstance, and given the character of the members of her family, Jamie’s loyalty bordered on sainthood.
Jamie was too terrified to look up at her intended. She and her sister stood side by side, holding on to each other’s hands for comfort. Daniel stood on Mary’s right and Alec was positioned on Jamie’s left. Alec’s arm touched her shoulder and his thigh brushed against her. Deliberately, repeatedly.
She couldn’t move away from him. Mary was squeezed up against her side and Alec’s arm blocked the possibility of a step back. Lord, how she hated being frightened. She wasn’t used to such feelings. She told herself it was because he was so big. He towered over her like a huge, angry cloud. He smelled of heather and masculinity, a bit of leather, too, and under more pleasing conditions, she might have found his scent appealing. Now, of course, she detested his size, his scent, his very presence.
The priest finished his homily on the sacrament of marriage, then turned to address Jamie’s sister. Mary, honest to a fault, gave Daniel a good laugh when Father Charles asked her if she’d take Daniel for her husband. Mary took a long while pondering over the question, acting as though she’d just been asked to explain the significance of the Norman Conquest, then finally blurted out her answer. “’Tis the truth I’d rather not, Father.”
Jamie was nearing the point of true hysteria. She was not supposed to be marrying this warlord named Alec Kincaid. He wasn’t making the situation any easier to endure, either, standing so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
While Father Charles was begging Mary to give a proper response, Jamie tried to move away from Alec. In the corner of her mind was the cowardly thought that she could just push his arm away, back up a step, and then run like lightning out of the room.
He must have read her intention, for his arm settled on her shoulders. Before she could protest, she was hauled up against his side.
She couldn’t shrug herself away from him. She tried—several times, in fact—before she whispered her demand that he unhand her.
He answered her by ignoring her.
In her frustration, she turned to her sister and said, “I don’t think it matters what our rathers be, Mary. If you don’t agree to marry Daniel, you’ll be going against your king.”
“But if I say I want to take this man for my husband, then I go against God, don’t I?” Mary argued. “I wouldn’t be telling the truth,” she ended with a wail.
“For God’s sake, Mary, answer the priest,” Jamie snapped.
Mary took exception to Jamie’s hostile tone. She glared at her sister before turning back to the priest. “Oh, all right. I’ll take him.” Turning back to Jamie, she muttered, “There, sister, are you happy now? You’ve forced me to lie to a man of the cloth.”
“I forced you?”
The gasp in Jamie’s voice wasn’t due entirely to her sister’s outrageous statement. Alec’s hand had curved around the base of her neck. His fingers were stroking her sensitive skin.
Father Charles nodded his approval of Mary’s answer.
It was now Jamie’s and Alec’s turn. “Your full name, milord?” the priest asked.
“Alec Kincaid.”
The priest nodded. He was in a hurry to get through this marriage ordeal, for the look in his sweet Jamie’s eyes had turned murderous. In his haste, Father Charles threw in the word “willingly” when he asked her if she would have Alec for her husband.
“Willingly?” Jamie asked. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the true opinion she was going to sting the priest with, then felt Alec’s fingers tighten around her throat.
The man was obviously trying to intimidate her. Jamie reached up to pull his hand away, but Alec wouldn’t be budged. He simply captured her fingers and continued to apply pressure.
He wasn’t being the least bit subtle. Jamie got his silent message quick enough. The arrogant man was going to strangle her to death if she provoked him any further, and being Scots, as he was, she was certain he’d carry out his threat.
Her neck was starting to sting. “I’ll take him,” she blurted out.
The priest sighed with relief, then rushed through the rest of the ceremony. As soon as he gave his blessing, Mary tried to run out of the hall. Daniel caught her in two strides. He lifted her into his arms and kissed the scream right out of her, in front of Father Charles and the family. When he finished his gentle attack, Mary sagged against him. Jamie thought she looked like a wilted flower.
The twins started whimpering again, Papa began to sniffle, and Jamie wanted to die a quick death.
Alec Kincaid wasn’t as forceful in his demand for a kiss to seal the vows. He merely moved to stand directly in front of his bride. His hands were settled on his hips, his muscular legs were braced apart, and his gaze was directed at the top of Jamie’s bowed head.
He didn’t say a word. Yet his rigid stance suggested he’d stand there all night if that was what was needed to get her to look at him. Jamie took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t trying to strangle her any longer.
She could feel her heart pounding. She supposed Alec Kincaid would dare just about anything he wanted to. She gathered her courage and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.
He really was frightening. His eyes were such a deep brown. Jamie could find very little warmth there, and after meeting his gaze for as long as she could manage without visibly cringing, she started to turn away.
Alec suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms. His hand cupped her chin just as his mouth came down on hers. The kiss was hard, unyielding . . . and unbelievably warm.
Jamie felt as though she’d just been scorched by the sun. The kiss ended before she could even think to struggle, before she really wanted to move at all. She was temporarily speechless. She stared up at her husband a long while, wondering if the brief kiss had affected him as much as it had her.
Alec was amused by the confusion he could see in Jamie’s eyes. It was apparent she hadn’t been kissed much. She was blushing with embarrassment now. Her hands were clinging to each other in what looked like a death grip.
Aye, he was pleased with her, and he realized he hadn’t been unaffected by the brief kiss, either. He couldn’t quit looking at her. Hell, he wanted to kiss her again.
Mary’s sudden bellow broke the spell.
“Now?” Mary shouted the word as though it were an obscenity. “Jamie, they mean to leave now!”
“Surely my sister misunderstood,” Jamie told Alec. “You aren’t really leaving now, are you?”
“We are,” Alec answered. “Daniel and I have many responsibilities back home. We’re leaving within the hour.”
He hadn’t mentioned Mary or her in his explanation. That realization captured her full attention. She almost smiled over the joyful possibility, then decided to make certain her guess was correct before getting her hopes up.
“Do you wish to share our humble dinner with us before
you and Daniel leave?” she inquired.
He knew exactly what she was thinking. She’d betrayed herself when she stressed the word “you” in her question. The daft woman actually thought he was going to leave her behind. Alec felt like laughing. She looked so serious now, and so damned hopeful.
Alec shook his head.
Jamie felt as though a prison door had just been unlocked and she was once again free. She desperately tried to hide her joy, for it would have been rude by half to show such open pleasure over his leave-taking.
The marriages were to be in name only. Oh, why hadn’t she realized that before? Alec and Daniel were simply doing the bidding of their overlord by marrying. Now they would go back home and resume their duties, whatever in God’s name those might be, and leave their appreciative brides in England where they belonged.
It really wasn’t such an unusual arrangement. Many marriages were settled in such a satisfying manner. Jamie actually felt a little foolish for not understanding sooner. She could have saved herself a good deal of worry.
Relief swept over her with a force that nearly made her knees buckle. Since she was used to making bargains with her Maker, she immediately promised God a twelve day novena for giving her this wonderful reprieve.
“Will you be returning to England for a stay in future?” she asked, trying to sound as if she thought that odious idea had an ounce of merit.
“It would take a war to bring me back.”
“You needn’t sound so cheerful over that possibility,” Jamie countered before she thought better of it. She let him see her frown, too, and didn’t care if she offended him. The man was as blunt as a cudgel. And if he wasn’t going to be polite, then she wasn’t going to bother with her manners either. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, turned her back on Alec, and slowly walked away from him. “’Tis already high afternoon, Kincaid,” she called over her shoulder. “You’d best be on your way, for I’m sure you have a good distance to cover before the day is finished.”
She almost added that it had been a pleasure to meet him, but the lie would have cost her another novena so she kept silent.
Jamie had just reached the table when her husband’s hard command stopped her cold.
“Gather your things and say farewell to your family, Jamie, while Daniel and I see to the horses. Be quick about it.”
“You as well, Mary,” Daniel interjected in that cheerful voice of his that was beginning to drive Jamie wild.
“Why must we hurry?” Mary asked.
“Alec and I have vowed not to sleep on English soil another night. We’ve a good distance to cover before darkness sets in.”
Jamie whirled around just in time to watch the two Scotsmen walk out of the room. Her hands gripped the table edge behind her back. “Kincaid? You’re supposed to leave me here,” she called out. “This is just a marriage of convenience, isn’t it?”
He stopped in the center of the hallway, then turned around to face her. “Aye, wife, it is a marriage of convenience. My convenience. Do you understand me?”
She ignored his angry tone of voice and his harsh expression. “No, Kincaid, I don’t understand.”
She’d tried to sound as arrogant as he looked, yet knew her effort was ruined by the tremor in her voice.
Her bluster of anger didn’t fool him. He knew she was frightened; his smile told her so. “In time I promise that you will understand. I give you my word.”
She didn’t want his word, but she didn’t think that was going to matter very much to him. He really was a warlord from hell, after all. She wasn’t up to arguing with him, either. Her eyes filled with tears just as soon as he disappeared out the doorway, and all she wanted to do was throw herself into the closest chair and have a good cry.
She was too upset to think about gathering her possessions. The twins took care of that task, allowing Jamie precious time with her father.
By the time Agnes and Alice returned to the great hall, Mary was in a fine state of nerves. She could barely stammer out her farewell before rushing out of the room.
“I’ll have the rest of your things packed carefully, Jamie, and sent on to you within a week’s time,” Agnes vowed. “These Highlands can’t be very far away.”
“I’ll pack your beautiful tapestries,” Alice interjected. “I promise I won’t forget anything. In no time at all you’ll be feeling right at home.”
“Alice, I already told Jamie I’d take care of that chore,” Agnes muttered. “Honestly, sister, you’re always trying to better me. Oh, Jamie? I put your mama’s shawl in your satchel with your medicine jars.”
“Thank you, sisters,” Jamie said. She quickly hugged them both. “Oh, I’m going to miss you two. You’re such dear sisters.”
“Jamie, you’re so very brave,” Agnes whispered. “You look so calm, so serene. I’d be daft by now. You’re married to the one who—”
“You needn’t remind her,” Alice muttered. “She couldn’t have forgotten he killed his first wife, sister.”
“We aren’t absolutely sure,” her twin argued.
Jamie wished the twins would stop trying to comfort her. Their reminders about Alec Kincaid were making her more upset than ever.
Baron Jamison tugged on Jamie’s skirt to get her attention. “I’ll be dead in a week, I will. Who will see to my meals? Who will listen to my stories?”
“Now, Papa, Agnes and Alice will take good care of you. You’re going to be just fine,” she soothed. She bent over her father, kissed his forehead, and then added, “Please don’t carry on so. Mary and I will come to see you and . . .”
She couldn’t finish her lie, couldn’t tell her father it was going to be all right. Her world had just ended; everything that was familiar and safe was being snatched away.
It was Agnes who whispered Jamie’s greatest fear aloud. “We’re never going to see you again, are we, Jamie? He won’t let you come home, will he?”
“I promise you I’ll find a way to come and see you,” Jamie vowed. Her voice shook and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Dear God, this leave-taking was painful.
Baron Jamison kept muttering between his sobs that the Scots had robbed him of his precious babies and how in God’s name was he ever going to get along without them? Although Jamie tried to console her father, in the end it proved to be a useless undertaking. Papa didn’t want to quiet down. The more Jamie tried, the louder he wailed.
Beak came to fetch her. A small tug-of-war resulted when he tried to separate father from daughter. Baron Jamison wouldn’t let go of Jamie’s hand. The task was finally won when Jamie gave assistance.
“Come along, Jamie. ’Tis best not to anger your new husband. He’s waiting patiently in the courtyard for you. Lord Daniel and Lady Mary have already started toward Scotland, lass. Come with me now. A new life awaits you.”
Beak’s soft voice helped to soothe Jamie. She took hold of his hand and walked by his side toward the entrance. When she paused to give her family one last farewell, Beak nudged her forward.
“Don’t be looking back, Jamie. And quit your shivering. Start thinking about your happy future.”
“It’s my future that has me shivering,” Jamie confessed. “Beak, I don’t know anything about this husband of mine. All the black rumors about him make me worry. I don’t want to be married to him.”
“What’s done is done,” Beak announced. “There’s two ways to look at this, lass. You can go into this marriage with your eyes closed tight against your man and be miserable for the rest of your days, or you can open them real wide, accept your husband, and make the best of your life.”
“I don’t want to hate him.”
Beak smiled. Jamie had sounded so pitifully forlorn. “Then don’t hate him,” he advised. “You ain’t any good at hating anyway. Your heart’s too tender, girl. Besides,” he continued as he nudged her farther ahead, “it ain’t so unordinary after all.”
“What isn’t so unordinary?”
“Many a bride goes to he
r wedding without knowing her mate.”
“But those brides were English, Beak, marrying Englishmen.”
“Hush, now,” Beak ordered, hearing the fear in her voice. “He’s a good man, this Kincaid. I took his measure, Jamie. He’ll treat you right.”
“How would you know that?” Jamie asked. She tried to stop and turn to face Beak but he kept nudging her forward. “There’s that rumor, if you’ll remember, that he killed his first wife.”
“And you believe it?”
Her answer was immediate. “I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Jamie shrugged. “I can’t explain it,” she whispered. “I just think he wouldn’t . . .” She let out a sigh, then added, “You’ll think me daft, Beak, but his eyes . . . well, he isn’t an evil man.”
“I happen to know for fact it’s a lie,” Beak announced. “He didn’t kill her. I put the question to him, Jamie, asked him right out.”
“You didn’t.” His outrageous statement made her laugh. “Beak, he must have been furious with you.”
“Spit,” Beak whispered. “Your future was my concern, not his anger,” he boasted. “Of course, it was only after I heard he was going to choose you that I asked him anything, you understand.”
“When did you have time?” Jamie asked, frowning.
“Ain’t important,” Beak said hurriedly. “Besides, I knew Kincaid was a good one as soon as I looked real close at his horse.” He gave Jamie another gentle prod between her shoulder blades to get her moving toward her husband again. “This warrior’s going to treat you with just as much care.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Jamie muttered. “You’ve been a stable master too many years, old friend. There’s a difference between a wife and a horse. I can see you believe this nonsense you’re telling me. You’re looking very pleased with yourself.”
“And feeling pleased,” Beak boasted. “I just got you clean outside without having to drag you none, now, didn’t I?”
He knew his comment startled her, for her eyes widened and he had to nudge her again when she came to an abrupt stop.
The Bride Page 8